


Five Times Rabbit Was Quiet (And One Time She Spoke Up)

by jaysayheyyy



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Trans Character, Gen, Trans Character, purposeful usage of pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24344692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaysayheyyy/pseuds/jaysayheyyy
Summary: Rabbit starts to feel like maybe this isn't who he is after all.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Five Times Rabbit Was Quiet (And One Time She Spoke Up)

**Author's Note:**

> Gotta love 5+1 fics. I've never written one but this was certainly a fun adventure. Hope yall enjoy! Comments and constructive criticism are welcome and appreciated :)

1.

He wasn’t really sure when it started, exactly. Maybe it’d always been this way. Maybe he just hadn’t noticed till it got worse, his mind still numb and heart raw from grief. He didn’t know, but the dread-like feeling in his boiler was distracting him, and with the way Ma kept nitpicking at his clothes, he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to perform for the crowds waiting just past the curtains. Ma smoothed out his collar and hummed and hawed until he finally had enough and made a noise of discomfort, taking her hands in his own to halt her movements. She blinked, almost as if she hadn’t even noticed she was fussing, and gave him a small, apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, dear.” She spoke. She was quiet. Nowadays that seemed to be her normal, subdued and sadder than she had been when Pappy was still around. Rabbit smiled back, though his was even smaller as his thoughts brewed like the clouds before a storm. The space beside him felt cold and empty, lacking the warmth Pappy had always brought with him. Ma seemed colder, too, in a strange way. Like Pappy had made her more alive just by being there, and now that he was gone, he’d taken that life with him. It still felt surreal, standing backstage as his siblings got themselves ready in clear nervousness. This was their first show without Pappy. It felt wrong. But the show must go on, as they say. 

“You look quite handsome,” Ma said, tucking a lock of greying hair behind her ear. Her eyes looked wet, but she didn’t shed any tears. She cried an ocean’s worth of tears when she heard the news about Pappy. Now she kept her cheeks dry and steeled herself, trying to be brave. But the pallor of her skin was sickly, and she often had to sit and nurse a cup of water where she used to be able to dance and sing alongside her automaton children. Rabbit didn’t want to think about her deteriorating health, and so he decided to contemplate the odd spike of wrongness in his chest. It was the word she’d used to describe him. “Handsome”. Was he handsome? That didn’t feel quite right. It felt like trying to fit a bolt into a square hole. Like using a drill to hammer a nail into the wall. 

Ma breathed a long sigh through her nose, patting Rabbit’s arms before she stepped away and sat on a wooden case, crossing her ankles as she studied The Spine and The Jon in the near distance. Spine’s chimneys gave off much more steam than usual these days, and with the way his hands were shaking as he tuned the guitar carefully cradled in his hands, Rabbit was a bit afraid that his younger brother would snap a string. Meanwhile, Jon was bouncing on his heels impatiently, tugging at his hair and adjusting his hat by nervous habit. Rabbit absentmindedly adjusted his shirt, averting his gaze from his siblings. He wanted to reassure them, but he was still stuck in silence. 

When Pappy passed, Rabbit hadn’t really known what to do. He thought it’d been a lie. To think that someone who he had so many memories of, someone who had likes and dislikes and an impact on his life like none other, could just. . . go away? Just like that? It didn’t feel real. And for the first few days, Rabbit had wrestled with the concept, waking up every day with the expectation that Pappy would pop out from behind the wall like he’d been playing Hide and Seek, just like he had when Rabbit was first put together and learning object permanence. Maybe this was a new game, one to test Rabbit’s processing power’s limits. But as the funeral date grew closer and Ma dressed him in dark clothes, her hands lingering as if she didn’t want to let go only for him to fade away, too, understanding settled in Rabbit’s mind. He grew quiet. He sang at Pappy’s funeral-- that felt right, at the very least. 

After that, though, he went silent. By now it was just habit, and so he let himself sink into his thoughts, a few minutes to spare before the concert. He couldn’t stop thinking about that word, though, oddly enough. Handsome. It kept circulating in his mind, nagging at him like an error message. He looked down at his copper hands. Pappy had certainly made him to be relatively good-looking; perks of being a robot, he supposed. But handsome? It didn’t sit right with him. He thought that maybe he didn’t want to be handsome. Not to say that he wanted to be ugly; no one wants to be ugly, of course, and to be ugly would mean to be quite mean. Ma had always said that the people who are truly ugly are those who are cruel, and Rabbit didn’t want to be cruel. What he wanted to be. . . Well, with that he was at a loss. Whatever it was, it wasn’t handsome. 

“Are you ready?” Ma asked, pulling him from his thoughts. Rabbit steadied his boiler and nodded, pasting a grin on his face. The show wasn’t going to be amazing, not with Pappy still on all their minds, but he’d do his best. The Steam Man Band was Pappy’s legacy. Even if the name sat just as strangely as handsome did, Rabbit would rather die before ruining that for his fallen father. He shoved the thoughts of Ma’s words aside and stepped out onstage, letting the familiarity of the roaring crowds wash over him. The show must go on.

2.

After the show, Ma took Rabbit and linked her arm in his, partially to keep him at her side and partially to lean on him. She’d looked a bit ill, but gatherings like this required at least a bit of mingling, and so Ma had picked herself up and decided to show off Rabbit to anyone curious. Which turned out to be a fair amount of people, in all honesty. Almost overwhelmingly so. Rabbit didn’t mind. Though he was feeling a bit vulnerable and much rathered the luxury of escaping backstage like his siblings had been allowed, this was his usual. He was the first automaton, the oldest, and that made him the perfect one to show off. It was Ma’s way of building reputation, he guessed. 

“I would call him more than a robot,” Ma’s words with a taller gentleman stole Rabbit’s attention, “He’s more like a son.” A son. Yet again the strange, turbulent feeling returned. Why did that make him feel so put out? 

“He’s a robot.” The gentleman replied dubiously, though not unkindly. Rabbit carefully looked away. He was used to the objectification. It didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt, though, well-intentioned or not. Still, Ma laughed it off with the wave of her slender fingers. 

“You say that, but he learned like a child would.” Ma confided, slyly piquing the interest of a few others not so subtly listening in. “Rabbit had to be taught object permanence, as well as finer motor controls and complicated linguistics. He wasn’t programmed with it.”

“Absolutely superb.” The gentleman replied, appraising Rabbit in a new light. “The late Mister Walter’s inventions are certainly amazing, we can all agree.” The turn in attitude didn’t please nor displease Rabbit. He was, oddly enough, still stuck on the “son” thing. First it was being called handsome. Then it was being called a son. What was so wrong about those words in particular? It was like they were clothes he’d grown out, which was actually an even strange thought because he didn’t grow. He was a robot, and the closest he got to growing would be getting new legs. 

As it was with nights like these, Ma rotated around and mingled with those she could, but Rabbit watched her carefully. When she buckled and caught herself on Rabbit’s arm, he decidedly steered her away from her next target and out of the ballroom, though she had no complaints. He led her to a plush chair and let her sit, watching as she leaned back and breathed a heavy sigh. She stared at the bland white ceiling for a moment, undoing her complicated bun as she slipped bobby pins and clips out of her dark locks. As her hair fell in gentle waves around her face, Rabbit had a startling thought. 

I wish I had long, pretty hair like that, he thought, and subsequently spent the next few moments staring at Ma’s hair as if it had all the answers. Where did that even come from? Did it have something to do with the words? Rabbit realized he’d been staring for quite some time and sheepishly looked away, adjusting his hat. He felt for Pappy’s goggles, relieved to feel the sleek glass still comfortable situated on the brim. Rabbit didn’t know if the thought he’d had was actually true, but the longer he thought about it, the more he realized that it might be alot more relevant than he expected. If he had hair like Ma’s, he could style it in pretty waves like she did. He could wear a bun or tie it back into a ponytail and look pretty doing it. . . 

“I suppose that should be it for tonight, hm?” Ma asked, seemingly taking his spaced out demeanor as a sign he had hit his limit as well. At a loss and very confused with himself, Rabbit nodded and offered his arm for her to take. With a small but genuine smile she linked their arms again, though Rabbit was careful to support her in fear that she might almost collapse again. These odd thoughts could wait. He had the present to worry over, and so he shoved ideas of long, luscious, feminine locks away and locked them behind bars. 

3.

The show had proven to him that he really had grown distant from his siblings. He hadn’t meant to, of course, but Pappy’s passing and his confusing thoughts and Ma’s illness had all tangled themselves up into one big ball of problems and Rabbit had decided that isolation was his best option. That didn’t stand for long, as he found himself being tugged along by an excited and impatient Upgrade. His brothers had been lucky enough to escape her creative wrath, but he hadn’t managed to run away fast enough and had been roped into her schemes. More than likely this was her punishment for his distance, which he supposed he deserved, but he really wasn’t looking forward to a day of playing dress up. 

It wasn’t that Upgrade had bad taste. She was a talented stylist and was stellar at making herself and others look their absolute best. She was the pretty one of the Walter automatons. Rabbit decided to ignore the spark of something like jealousy in his chest, because he did not want to be the pretty one. He was perfectly fine where he was. He repeated this in his head as he stood in the center of Upgrade’s room, feeling almost disconnected from the absolute chaos around him. Upgrade held up a vest to his chest, hummed thoughtfully, and tossed it aside with the shake of her head. What it was. . . Well. It was that Rabbit didn’t want to have to face the idea that his clothes had started to feel awkward on him. They seemed to rub the wrong way, grating against his electric nerves in a way they hadn’t before. He felt uncomfortable every time he looked in the mirror, tracing the lines of his shoulders and hips as if they were wrong on him. He didn’t like the long pants and form fitting vests anymore. He didn’t like any of his clothes any more. 

That was why he wasn’t thrilled to be Upgrade’s model. She would certainly make him look good. Handsome, even. But handsome was wrong and the clothes were all wrong and he just wanted to be the pretty one, dammit, those thoughts spinning in his head with the whipping strength of a tornado. He had half a mind to give up and walk away, until Upgrade teasingly held up one of her dresses to his obviously broader frame, a cheeky smile on her face. 

“Why don’t you try this one on?” She trilled, grinning like a cat who’d caught the canary. For a moment, Rabbit didn’t know what to do. What he should’ve done was say no and walk away. He wouldn’t have to deal with Upgrade’s insistence on using him as a doll and he wouldn’t have to face the thought that he wanted to put on the dress. It would have been easier for all of them had he stuck with his masculinity. But the longer he stared at the dress, following the patterns of the lace longingly, the harder it became to say no. Tentatively, hesitantly, he took the dress from her outstretched hands and ran his thumbs across the soft material. 

He should have said no. But he put it on anyway. It wasn’t perfect; the zipper didn’t zip all the way, the dress a tad too small and a bit too short, the pink clashing with his copper skin, but it didn’t have to look right to feel right. Maybe it stretched across his shoulders and maybe it was a little tight in the waist, but in that moment, he looked like the image he’d begun to conjure of himself in his mind. He felt a little less wrong, a little less out of place, turning to marvel at his reflection in the dusty mirror. Upgrade’s grin had slowly morphed into confusion, watching him play with the hem and run his hands over the lace across his collarbones. 

“. . . Rabbit?” Upgrade called, but before either of them could act, the door to her room opened and Ma poked her head in. The first thing Rabbit noticed was how tired she looked. The second thing he realized was that he was, in fact, in a dress. And Ma could see. Panic swelled in his chest and tangled the desperate explanation in his throat, leaving him speechless, staring back at her with wide eyes. Steam hissed from his vents and hid his expression from view, but the rest of him was frozen. She knew. She’d seen. 

But Ma surprised him by laughing. She-- why did she laugh? The panic ebbed away a bit as logic won over. Ma thought he was embarrassed to be caught in a dress. She thought he was unwillingly wearing the dress, because Upgrade had somehow forced him into it. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Upgrade joined her in hesitant giggles, bouncing over to greet Ma excitedly. Ma chatted with her for a moment as Rabbit studied his reflection quietly, wishing he could just speak up and tell them about his confusion and turmoil, but the words wouldn’t come to him. 

“I’ll leave you two alone, then.” Ma said teasingly, and shut the door behind her with a very final click. Upgrade turned to Rabbit with a grin, looking as though she wanted to brag about having embarrassed him, but as she saw the look of despondence on her face her expression faltered. She didn’t speak up, and Rabbit slipped out of the dress very, very quietly. He wouldn’t cry, not in front of her, holding back his tears as he slipped back into his uncomfortable clothes with the thought of how wrong his body felt still stabbing into him like poison coated knives. He bade Upgrade goodbye, unable to muster any guilt at ending their time together so suddenly. 

The shut of his door behind him felt too loud in the silence as his oil tears streamed down his face. Longing coiled around his core like a venomous snake, sinking its teeth into his heart and spreading its dangerous poison. This, whatever it was, had to be some sort of malfunction. That could be the only explanation. Maybe somewhere in his programming something had corrupted, giving him faulty reactions to randomized words. That would make sense, wouldn’t it? Except that didn’t explain the itchiness seemingly under his skin or the sudden waves of self-loathing whenever he looked in the mirror, hands trembling as he examined his square jawline and narrow body. 

Something was changing within him, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good change or not.

Meanwhile, as Rabbit stewed in his room, Hatchworth and Zero watched a strange man leave the manor. He had been carrying a briefcase and wore a white labcoat not too dissimilar to the one Pappy had always worn, except he didn’t do the same thing Pappy had. This man, as Ma explained patiently to them, fixed people, not robots. He was called a doctor. He’d come to see Ma. Which meant Ma had needed fixing, Hatchworth had concluded, but she didn’t look any better. When he’d asked if Ma had gotten fixed, well. Ma just gave him a sad smile, pat his head, and told him not to worry about her. 

This was not reassuring, and by the look on Zero’s face, he too knew that something was wrong with Ma. But what could he do? What could either of them do? Nothing, Hatchworth thought, watching the doctor’s car disappear down the road. There was nothing to be done but wait.

4.

To those who’d witnessed it from afar, it looked like an accident by all means. A trio of men crossing the street and a speeding car mixed into something nastily unavoidable. That is, for men who weren’t robots perfectly able to avoid said car. For those who’d been up close and personal, those who’d felt Rabbit’s screws graze their skin as the car violently slammed into him, they knew that the incident was anything but an accident. It was purposeful. The speeding car was not the reason, though, why they could be certain this was intentional. It was the way Rabbit shifted, a decision already in his eyes before anyone could even react. It was the way he planted his feet and stared down the car with desperate hope lighting his irises, his mouth set in a firm, grim line. 

The Jon and The Spine had been moments behind him. Just far enough to escape injury, but just close enough to have seen. To know that Rabbit had let himself get hit. In the moment, Rabbit couldn’t really explain why. It was just. . . instinctive. He could have moved. He had the processing speed to have been able to find an escape route in milliseconds. But he stayed put, staring down the metal beast barrelling towards him in a manner that was nothing short of selfish. But in the moment, there was but a single thought running through his head, one he pondered even now. 

“If I’m ruined,” He had thought, the screech of tires distant, “Will they have to start from scratch and make me right, this time?” Then the car hit, his chest caved inwards, a million error messages exploded across his vision, and he shut down. 

When he awoke, his first sight was the twins staring down at him with incomprehensible dual expressions. If he had to put a name to it, he would have guessed a mix of turmoil and disappointment and maybe contemplation. The workshop was quiet. He looked to his left and saw Ma, paler by the day, tapping her fingers against the table she sat at worriedly. Her brows were creased, lines etched into her face from her distress. Beside her Spine sat knitting up a storm, if only to keep himself distracted. Jon was pacing with an anxious bounce in his step, fiddling with his suspenders. 

“Rabbit, run startup protocols one through nine, please.” Two requested politely, catching the attention of all three bystanders waiting for Rabbit to wake. Rabbit obediently ran through them, testing his dexterity and running a quick sweep through his systems to make sure everything was in working order. As he looked down at his copper hands he felt potent disappointment wash over him like a crashing wave, almost stealing the steam from his boiler. Still the same awful body. He felt displaced as he tested his arms and legs, bending them at the joints with various clicks and hisses of steam. Everything was working just fine, but he felt like all of his gears were grating against the other. His screws felt too tight. He wanted a different body, a better body, one that felt truer, one that he could look at and say, “Yeah, this is me.”

“Rabbit! Oh, you gave us such a scare.” Ma exclaimed as soon as Rabbit finished, standing with only slight hesitation. A dizzy spell, Rabbit guessed distantly, rising to meet her midway as she fussed over him, fixing his hair and running her hands over the screws in his neck to be absolutely certain he’d been put back together properly. He hadn’t, not in the way he’d wanted, but he stayed silent. He wished he could just say something. If only he were brave enough to speak it into existence. Maybe then he’d come to terms, too. He knew who he was, knew what he wanted, but as he watched Ma sniffle and scrub at her relieved tears, he had to wonder. Would she still love him if she knew? Would she have cried, still, if she knew that he’d let himself be broken on purpose?

Maybe that’s why his lips stayed locked. He couldn’t tell her, because what if she stopped loving him for it? Then he’d have no Ma, no Pappy, and he had no clue what he’d do if everyone else hated him because he couldn’t have settled for the body he’d been given. He didn’t want to be alone, didn’t want to have to see disappointment on all their faces at how messed up he’d become. Silence was the best answer, and so he nodded along as Ma went on a tirade about how he could never, ever, do that again to her, how her poor heart couldn’t take it. . . Still, as he half-listened to Ma, he couldn’t shake the feeling of not one, not two, but three pairs of eyes staring at him as if he’d become some sort of puzzle for them to solve. 

He ignored them, sat through Ma’s words, reassured her he was okay, and escaped as soon as he could. If he hadn’t gone so hastily, maybe he would have seen what went on behind his back. Ma went back to her room, massaging her temples, looking nauseous from the stress. Spine watched Rabbit go as if he wanted to chase after him, but ultimately left the workshop in thoughtful silence. But surprisingly enough, Jon stayed behind to talk with the twins. 

“He did it on purpose.” Jon spoke into the silence. The clink of tools and parts being put away answered him as the twins exchanged a look. “Rabbit let the car hit him.” Jon sounded both numbly astonished and saddened. He looked over with blue eyes clouded with tears, searching for answers in the grim gazes of the twins. “Why would he do that?” Two breathed a quiet sigh and placed a hand on Jon’s shoulder as comfortingly as he could. 

“I don’t know, buddy.” He murmured. “We’ll make sure he’s okay. I promise.” Three nodded along to his brother’s words, giving Jon his best smile. 

“Okay.” Jon replied, “I trust you.” Jon left at that, and Three looked to his brother. 

“Do you think he tried to kill himself?” Three asked, brutally blunt. Two huffed at his curtness and elbowed him roughly in the side, ignoring the kick that Three sent back. 

“No,” Two finally decided, rolling a screw in his palm in thought. “He didn’t want to die. I think he wanted something else, though. I just don’t know what.” Three hummed in acknowledgement, and the workshop went quiet again. It was eerie, really. Rabbit had always filled the silence with his wacky personality and exuberance. He’d practically stopped talking after Pappy had died, and with whatever was on his mind, the manor was uncomfortably soundless. It was then that Two and Three resolved to determine exactly what was going in with Rabbit and fix it. They were, after all, quite talented at repairing automatons.

5.

Spine had his own realization after that incident. His desperation had turned to determination as he ascertained that, no matter how many times he called for Rabbit, his older brother was not coming to him. So Spine would go to Rabbit and force him to enjoy Spine’s company, because Rabbit certainly needed it. Well, Rabbit needed company in general, and Spine just really missed his brother. This is how Rabbit found himself looking up from his writing to meet the hesitant eyes of Spine. Already mildly frustrated with the song he was trying to write, Rabbit simply rose a brow at his brother. Spine seemed to take this as an invitation and came closer, trying to steal a glance at what Rabbit was working on. Rabbit scowled and slid the papers closer, hiding them from Spine’s view. Undeterred, Spine sat at the table across from him and smiled invitingly. 

“Whatcha workin’ on?” He asked curiously. Rabbit looked to the messily scrawled words, then to the pile of broken pencils he’d snapped in his irritation, and sighed. “You uh, need some help?” Spine pressed, leaning in closer. Rabbit had half a mind to snap at him and tell him to get lost when he actually took a moment to consider Spine and understood what this was. Rabbit thought back to the past month, the days he’d spent mute, grieving and most importantly, alone. Did Spine. . . miss him? Rabbit stared at Spine for a moment. Spine stared back awkwardly, but it hit Rabbit that the old Spine would’ve looked away and left, conceding defeat. Now, Spine held his gaze stubbornly, maybe even bravely. 

Rabbit was proud, in a weird way. Spine had grown up. So, though he wouldn’t show Spine the song he was frustrated over, he rifled through his papers to find the other one he was stuck on. He’d wrote this one about a girl he’d met, but after Pappy died, the drive behind it had shifted. Now the feeling lay in the way it felt imagining Pappy’s rapidly fading memory. Rabbit slid the papers Spine’s way, leaning his chin on his hand as he waited for Spine to skim what he had so far. 

“Turn Back The Clock.” Spine read out. “Yeah,” He said, looking up at Rabbit, “I think I can help with this.”

6.

“Boys?” Ma called from the doorway, interrupting their work. Rabbit turned to look to the kitchen doorway and halted at the sight of Ma standing there, almost gasping at the state she was in. Zero was at her side, supporting her, but she was skinnier than skinny and swaying as if she might fall over any moment, a hand near her mouth as if she were going to be sick. Rabbit stood without much thought, hands partially outstretched as if to steady her himself. Looking at her now, all he could think about was how she used to look so lively. Where was the soft peach tone of her skin? Why did her cheeks look so sunken, no longer round and full? Ma was sick. She had been, for a while. 

“Ma.” Spine said worriedly, looking as helpless as Rabbit felt. Ma tried to smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. 

“Come into the living room. We need to. . .” She took a steadying breath, “to talk.” Rabbit followed her and Zero with thick dread rapidly pooling in his boiler, feeling as though it might come up and drown him. He didn’t want to know what she was going to say, but he already knew just by watching her settle on the couch. He’d known since Pappy died, in all honesty. He just didn’t want to face it. He didn’t want to accept that Ma was dying. He settled opposite her, removing his hat to run his thumb over the glass of Pappy’s goggles with furrowed brows. His siblings were already gathered, alongside the twins, who took their places on either side of her. Jon grabbed a blanket for Ma. Upgrade handed her a steaming cup of tea. 

For a moment no one spoke. Rabbit looked to everyone and saw the same grim finality on their faces. They knew, too. But once someone said it, it became real. There was no avoiding it now, not when she was already so sick. Rabbit braced himself for the news he knew was coming. Finally, Ma breathed a teary, shaky sigh. Thick, salty droplets darkened the cloth of her sleeves as she set aside her tea and folded her hands, bowing her head. 

“I’m afraid I’ve become terribly ill.” She hiccuped. “Just like your Pappy, I--” She sobbed, hunching in on herself further. 

“We know, Ma.” Spine spoke up, reaching out to tangle his fingers in Ma’s trembling ones. She shook her head, greying strands swaying rapidly. 

“I’m sorry.” She cried, squeezing Spine’s hand as tight as she could. The twins leaned into Ma almost desperately. All around him voices and crying exploded into life, but there was stillness in Rabbit’s mind. Silence. Everything around him felt underwater, submerged and hushed, his thoughts running a million miles a minute. Ma was sick. Ma was dying. Ma would never know about him and his body dysphoria. 

Rabbit stood. He heard his name. Rabbit stared. Someone was reaching out. Rabbit shook his head, fell to his knees, and held onto his Ma as he sobbed harder than he ever had before.

Things never go the way we want them to. Ma was supposed to have more time. Pappy was supposed to go down in history as the greatest inventor in the world. Rabbit was supposed to be a girl. But life has its own way of making things right. More often than not, it takes a journey. It takes trial and a million errors before the resolution. Rabbit shifted in the tall grass, a bag of oats in her hands mostly empty. The ducks splashed in the pond as the sun shone down on her brand new metallic skin, a white finish and signature copper gleaming in the sunlight. Some ends are cruel and unfulfilling. Some are triumphant and wondrous. And some. . . Some are just bittersweet. 

“Hi Ma, hi Pappy.” Rabbit spoke to the weathered, well-loved graves, kneeling beside the bouquets of flowers Hatchworth had picked himself. Her skirt brushed against the dirt, but she didn’t mind. She had all the skirts and dresses she could ever want now. Rabbit brushed her bangs from her eyes and smiled. “I hope yo-yo-you’re doing alright.” She adjusted her hat, pushing it back a bit to make herself more comfortable. She reached out and traced the soft petals. Even if they were gone, it didn’t feel so lonely anymore. It felt like they were watching over her fondly from wherever they’d gone after they’d left this life. Rabbit blew a stray strand of long, purple hair off her nose. 

“Things are. . . Different now.” She spoke, seating herself on the ground cozily. “And I’m sorry I co-co-couldn’t tell ya sooner.” She pat her chest for emphasis. “But I’m happier now. And I hope you are too, wherever you went.” She knew there’d be no response, but she waited for a moment, basking in the warmth of the sun. If she closed her eyes she could almost feel them by her side, gently pressing kisses to her forehead in turn to remind her that no matter how she looked, she would always be theirs. Son or daughter, man or woman. . . she was loved.

Rabbit stood and brushed off the dust from her skirt. She tossed the rest of the oats to the ducks and bade her parents a quiet goodbye, hands folded behind her back loosely as she walked back to the manor. As she went, she hummed her new song under her breath. She thought she might call it Transform. Life worked in such strange ways. Ma passed peacefully in her sleep maybe a week after she broke the news of her illness to them, and for a while, Rabbit had been lost. It felt like grief had manifested in the form of a hulking beast and torn open her chest, leaving a gaping wound unlike any she’d known before. The twins receded into the workshop in an attempt to heal their own wounds with distractions. It took time, as all wounds to the heart and soul do.

Things changed slowly for the better. It started small. Spine started bringing meals up to the workshop. Zero came along with Ma’s favorite tea; he’d always brewed it best. Hatchworth picked flowers for the graves and gently coerced his siblings to join him. Jon made sure no one skipped rehearsals for concerts, even if they’d taken a short break to mourn. Upgrade started convincing her siblings not just to be her models but to spend time with the others in her own quirky ways, which usually meant spontaneous makeover nights. It was on those nights that Rabbit slowly but surely opened up. She started letting Upgrade do her makeup. 

Then the twins came to Rabbit with a discovery; her original blueprints, where she had been designed in the likeness of Miss Delilah Morreo, a woman of science and the reason the Walter automatons had been built. But Rabbit hadn’t focused on who, but rather what Delilah was. A woman. And suddenly it made sense; Rabbit had never been male, not truly. She’d been longing for a female body, for curves and full lips and long lashes. What meant the most to her, though, was that if she had been intended to be female in the first place, then there was no way Ma and Pappy could hate her for wanting her rightful figure. Why she hadn’t been finished as a female escaped her and the twins, but it didn’t matter anymore. 

They asked her if this was what she’d wanted. All this time she’d been silent, letting her self-loathing bury her alive, but now her opportunity was ripe for the picking. She wouldn’t have to feel wrong anymore. Her skin wouldn’t crawl when she saw herself in the mirror, and she could smile knowing she was herself. 

“Yes.” She’d spoken, and so it was done.

The twins helped her settle into her new skin with a brand new body and the help of some new Walter Workers, and everything just fell into place after that. She wished her parents had been here to see her now, grinning from ear and ear and finally comfortable as herself. Maybe they were here, watching over her. She liked to think that they were. In the distance Rabbit spotted Hatchworth and Jon waving to her excitedly. This was where she’d been meant to be the whole time, she thought. With a small, joyous laugh, she picked up the pace, joining her siblings in their outside fun. 

Things never go the way we want them to. But they work out in the end, don’t they? 


End file.
